Greed's a Pain
by TheFriendZone
Summary: Chrom has never dealt with anything like Robin before. He was a walking public-relations-incident, but he was also the... The word alone made him vomit in his mouth. But Robin was unlike anything he ever dealt with before. Too bad that he enjoys drinking... and fighting... and stealing... If that man ever had children, Chrom would never be able to sleep again.
1. Chapter 1

The man was dreading every step he took to the small, sleazy tavern. The wooden walls creaked and groaned as his boots crunched the snow beneath him. His garbs were less regal than he was used to, just a simple robe and chainmail under it. Despite the frigid temperature, the sounds of high energy melted through the walls of the tavern, all either merry or too intoxicated to comprehend. The street was empty, it being well past midnight, which he was thankful for. He was far too used to this situation, but he still preferred to keep it out of the public's eye best he could.

"Get your hands offa me!" the man heard a familiar voice scream. It still held the same raspy, gravel tone that belonged more to an animal than a person. The voice clearly sounded drunk, overly aggressive and-

The man's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden lightning bolt flying from the door of the tavern, tearing the heavy wooden entrance off of its hinges and hurtling towards him. He quickly dodged out of the way, watching as it exploded into splinters against the clothing shop across the street.

" _Oh Gods, he brought a spellbook with him._ "

He should have expected it. All he knew then was that he needed to be more careful than he liked.

The stampeding crowd of bar patrons nearly crushed the man, who gently pushed his way into the bar. There were still enough spectators to indicate the center of the drama. Which the man was thankful for as the smoke in the building was so thick a knife could not cut through it. Simple wooden chairs were flung around like toys by the source of the disturbance, a small child stumbling around, clutching a spellbook and a sword.

The small person's face was so red that he looked like a cherry. The scowl he wore was enough to send a chill down its victim's face. The same, graveled voice came from the purple-robed child, and the vocabulary could only be described as vulgar. Obscenities flew from his mouth freely as he flung lightning like candy, which embarrassed the stranger.

"What seems to be the problem here?" the stranger asked, removing his hood to reveal a young, handsome, blue-haired man. His voice idealized leadership alone. A voice that any one would follow into Hell itself without any regret.

"M-Milord!" the bar tender, the victim of the smaller one's abuse, stammered out as he recognized the man. "Ain't nothin' to wurry ova'," his accent was thick enough to confuse even the hardest of intellectuals, "Jus' go' a brat 'ere talkin' 'bout fhings he don' know nofhin 'bout."

"That is true!" the intoxicated, agitated one shouted.

"He ain't go' no respect!"

"That is also true!"

The stranger looked down at the drunken maniac, only enraging the smaller one further.

"Why are you doing this, Robin?" the stranger asked, ashamed to see the scene before him.

"Why!?" the one called Robin shouted, his eyes white with rage. "Because this asshole called me ' _vermin_ '! A ' _stupid kid_ '! Well I never asked to be made!" Robin's teeth grit as he glared daggers at the bartender. "I never asked to be ripped apart and put back together like some kinda... some kinda _monster_!" He readied his spell book, his hand glowing a threatening yellow. "Well let's see what ten-thousand volts will do to that fat, melon head of yours!"

"Robin!" the stranger shouted, coming between the fat bartender and Robin. "One million gold! What kind of idiot would ruin that over a bar brawl?"

Robin growled, pondering the words he heard. After a few seconds that felt like centuries, he threw the spellbook against the wall, making a loud crack as it impacted. He looked directly into the stranger's eyes, pure malice in the small pupils.

"Fine," Robin said, tolerating his choice, but still in a berserker mood, "but after I get my money, I can't guarantee that I won't kill every last one of you."

Robin stumbled his way out of the tavern, dragging his sword lazily behind him, and tripping over his robe every few steps.

"Lord Chrom?" the bartender asked, wiping his sweaty palms on his tattered pants, "Who was that kid?"

Chrom gave a groan, handing the fat man a few gold coins for his trouble.

"He's my tactician..."

* * *

 _A/N_

This is Mastodon, and I feel _good_!

All I'm gonna say is that life has been pretty good so far! No context. Invent it yourselves, children!

But you may notice how Robin quotes Guardians of the Galaxy a lot. That is because I watched that movie again yesterday, and I decided to make a new thing (I know, shut up) where Robin was similar to Rocket from that movie. So expect a loud, angry, crazy Robin instead of blank slate one. Why? I'm bored. Why am I not working on my other stuff? GIVE IT TIME! They're coming!

This was just a fun little distraction. I am certainly gonna update this rarely, if ever, because I just had this idea out of the blue. I literally just started typing what came to mind. Until next time, remember this: if you try out for a play, and are a good actor, but cannot sing, you will not get a speaking role. :I


	2. Chapter 2

**Three Years Prior:**

 _The noise of the prison was far beyond the sound any battlefield could make. Chrom scarcely believed that the, admittedly large, cell block could roar with the sounds of a wyvern in heat. His ear drums felt ready to burst at any moment, and it was only getting worse. The catwalks were full of prisoners, all leaving their cells, taunting the blue-haired noble to no end._

" _Lookie here!" he could hear a prisoner shout from an unseen vantage point. "We got ourselves a celebrity!"_

" _Wonder if he'll give autographs?" another prisoner taunted._

 _The cell block stunk of dry sweat and rotted meat; hopefully not human. The entire block was illuminated heavily, almost blindingly. Chrom was unsure if there was a point not made of stone. The walls, floors, roof, even the doors. That is no exaggeration. The cell **doors** were made of the damn stuff! The grey was enough to make anyone psychotic. _

_A large, open space sat between the walls reserved for prison cells. Plegians were always weird with their architecture. That, and their obsession with sprinkling sand across the floor of every building. Maybe they just track it in, but that excuse wasn't going to replace his now ruined shoes. Once sand is in, there is no getting it out. Across the large, open hall was the entrance to the next cell block; E-block. He was assigned to C. The grey, tattered, beggar quality shirt he wore had the letter stitched, poorly, onto the back. No chance of sneaking out amongst the crowd..._

" _We got a pretty boy!" another prisoner shouted from his cell. "Boss'll make ya squeal quick!"_

"I should have been more careful... _" Chrom chastised himself. One bad scouting mission, and he ends up in prison with a bunch of men that hated his guts. Especially since he was sure that he killed some relatives of those men._

" _You killed my brother!"_

 _There you go._

 _A large crowd of prisoners gathered around Chrom, who was restrained by the shackles on his arms and legs, and by the guards at his back. Hopefully they would keep them from getting too restless. A full scale riot would be... problematic. Thankfully, he was confident that the Plegian legal system mimicked the Ylissean in regards to... where did the guards go?_

"THEY LEFT ME HERE!? _" Chrom shouted in his mind. Now he was no stranger to fighting, and had killed more men than he could count. But fighting what looked like at least a hundred prisoners with nothing but shackles on was not how he was taught to fight._

 _The crowd surrounded Chrom, cutting off all points of escape. The shouting got louder, turning more menacing and venomous._

" _Fuck him up!" someone shouted, followed by a rock being hurled at Chrom._

" _Mess up that face!"_

" _Kill 'im!"_

 _A large, large, **large** man forced his way out of the crowd, meeting Chrom face-to-face. The stranger stuck of rotten fish and booze, which Chrom was convinced was somewhere in the forest of hair covering his body. The man's beard looked so full that Chrom wasn't sure where his face was. Or if he actually had one. The giant stomped his way to Chrom, inciting cheers and more yelling from the prisoners. He was mere inches from Chrom, towering over him and smirking for it._

" _I know who you are," the man said. "You're Chrom. The prince from Ylisse."_

 _Chrom merely nodded, feeling exposed._

" _A bunch of my boys want to tear you limb from limb," the man continued. "Won't deny that it sounds pretty fun. But how about we make a deal?" The man gestured to the crowd, getting whistles and clapping in response. "We don't kill you, and you simple do some... **favors** for us."_

" _You do know that I'm a man, right?" Chrom felt disgusted. He always heard stories from his mother about the horrors of prison, in shockingly accurate detail now that he recalls, and could scarcely believe what was happening in front of him._

" _Not after we're done with ya!"_

 _More cheers erupted._

" _So how 'bout it?" the man sneered. "Sounds fair to me. You won't even need to tell the family, assuming you ever get out."_

" _I would rather be ripped apart, to be perfectly honest..." Chrom's face went dark. He was never going to even make it to his cell. The crowd already looked willing to fight. So that's how he was going to die? On the floor of some disgusting cell, miles away from home?_

" _Can't say I appreciate that," the large man crossed his arms, no longer smiling. "You think you're too good for my boys?"_

" _I mean no insult to you, or your men," Chrom said, keeping his tone as calm as he could make it. "I am simply saying that not even the most desperate of prostitutes would let any of you get a single finger on her for all of the gold in the world."_

" _Well," the man's voice became ice cold. "Looks like we get to see some red after all!" he called to his men, all still cheering and excited._

 _Time slowed to a crawl as they rushed Chrom, closing the distance in what felt like years. All he could do was stand there and hope to smash the skull of the first one to grab him before they gutted him alive. Just one. All he needed was one. As long as one went with him, it was glorious battle. The mob got ever closer, taunting him with their lack of speed. His eyes shut, accepting the inevitable._

 _The crack of lightning shook the cell-block, and the mob. All were left paralyzed where they stood, refusing to move an inch. Dead silence flooded the room as no one could tell what happened. The flash blinded them all, and the clap of thunder deafened them as well. They might as well have been infants in the river, powerless to do anything but wait for something to happen._

" _Alright, you numb-skulled, disgusting, low-life pieces of human filth," a loud, crackling, angry voice tore through the ears of the prisoners, "hands off the pretty boy!"_

 _The convicts searched amongst themselves, opening the some breathing room for Chrom, who also scanned the crowd. None of them confessed to the interruption, until a small child pushed his way past the much older looking criminals and made his way to Chrom. If anything, the child looked like a little girl instead of a boy. The long, shoulder-length hair and fair face did not help in that scenario. What little of the skin that showed from his uniform was littered with scars. Every piece of flesh from the neck under was damaged and mutilated. It was a horror show, using polite words._

 _The child walked until he reached Chrom, where he then spun around and spoke once more._

" _Anyone man enough to try to get to him goes through me!" the 'child' called out, revealing himself as the speaker. "Or, more accurately: I go through **you**."_

"I am so screwed... _" A kid trying to save him was going to do absolutely nothing. They were dead. He could already picture his coffin. A rich mahogany, with velvet lining on the inside. Basically, the one he got on his tenth birthday when he became the legal age to be heir to the throne._

 _The convicts shared Chrom's mindset, all bursting into tears with laughter. Even the giant was shaking the room with his boisterous laugh. The kid still held that determined, angry look, despite the mocking. If Chrom could give him anything, it was that he did not lack confidence._

" _And what do you think you can do, brat?" the giant asked, towering over the child. He held that same smirk he used to intimidate Chrom. "It's a hundred to two. How do you think that'll play ou-?"_

" _Beard's on fire," the kid said simply._

" _What?" the giant asked before his head was consumed in flames. The hair on his body acted like a matchbook, spreading the fire in mere moments. It wasn't ten seconds before the giant was a mass of fire, running through the crowd to find sanctuary from the flames. The crowd was left stunned, staring at where their boss ran off to, and at the pint-sized sorcerer that caused it._

" _Any body else wanna be a big shot?" he sneered, causing the convicts to flinch. "Now hear this! This guy!" he pointed to Chrom, "He's with me! **Remember that**."_

* * *

 _Chrom and his savior sat in Chrom's cell, getting used to the thin mats on the solid floor. No matter how he shifted, Chrom was uncomfortable. That was expected for prison. Still sucked, though._

" _So what's your name?" Chrom asked the child-like man that rescued him. The man in question was busy flipping through a small pocket book he held in his equally small hands. His eyes glanced to Chrom, who laid on his mat and looked to him._

" _What, you want a date?" the man asked insultingly._

" _No," Chrom said in deadpan. He gave a sigh and looked to the roof of his cell. "Just wanted to put a name to the face, I guess."_

" _Well, being perfectly honest, I guess I should give you a name," the man answered, slipping the pocket book into his uniform sleeve._

" _So we can watch each other's backs?" Chrom asked._

" _No," the man quickly shot down, "so you can have something to put on the checks!" he held out a hand._

" _I'm Robin! And you owe me a_ **lot** _of money."_

* * *

 _A/N_

Agggghh... I finally have _something_ done! I'm so tired... I shouldn't even be up this late, but I can't sleep. Life's eternal Hell...

Basically, some back story regarding Chrom and Robin. That about sums it up. I'm going to bed...


	3. Chapter 3

There was no way. No. He refused to believe it. In no way could what he was being told true. Nope. Nadda. Not a single word could be believed. Not one.

"So you are...?" Chrom asked in absolute horror, unable to complete the sentence. The same thoughts played in his head over and over. Lissa probably had her own future children play a prank on him. They'd give a big laugh and say "No, we're Lisa's, uncle Chrom!" and give him a giant hug. Yes, that was it. There was no way that they could in any way shape or form be-

"Robin's daughters!" the girls Morgan and Cynthia said in unison. Both wore an excited smile as they added their own flourishes to their announcement. Morgan shot a bolt of lightning in the air while Cynthia threw a mass of flower petals into the breeze.

" _Oh dear sweet Gods, no..._ "

"S-So... how did you two find us?" Chrom tried to hide the terror in his voice. Knowing his tactician, they were probably born from the various prostitutes strutting through the camp, and into Robin's tent, at all hours of the day and night... Oh Gods, there could be more...

"Well, our super-amazing, heroic mother found us," Cynthia explained, stars in her eyes. "She's a true legend!"

"A-And who is your mo-mother?" Chrom was snow white by that point. The praise... there was no way that their mother was a warrior, right? But if she was, then she would have to be a Shepherd. That would mean...

" _BUT THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!_ "

Robin had already built a reputation amongst his comrades. Specifically one of 'get this maniac away from me', and for many of the women of the army 'no, I won't have sex with you; leave me alone'. So the idea that their mother was in that very army was impossible. He was simply misreading things. For all he knew, they were not even time travelers. Just crazy people wanting attention, and that was... ah crap.

" _That's Robin's coat..._ "

He saw the shorter of the two, Morgan, wearing the purple cloak herself. It fit her like a glove, and Chrom knew that it was much like his Falchion, only one out there. And it was on that girl. The oddest thing about the apparent sisters were the contrasting looks. One was short, and very petite. Her hair mimicked her father to a T, being short but growing longer, and unkempt. Cynthia, however, had pig-tails and stood the height of an average woman. They even looked different in the face department. Morgan held more of a child's look, despite looking to be in her teens, while Cynthia had a face Chrom could only describe as 'cute', when talking about a full grown woman of course. In fact, she looked familiar.

"Oh, Chrom!" he heard the gentle, familiar voice of Sumia call out to him. He turned to see the klutzy pegasus-rider walk to the three of them, thankfully not breaking her skull open in the process. "I see you've met the girls."

"So you're the one who found them? That means you're...?" Chrom asked for clarification, his eyes wide. "Did they tell you who-?"

"Yes, I know that Robin is their father," Sumia said, surprisingly cheery. "In fact, I was just about to take them to meet him."

"Why would you do that!?" Chrom screamed, grabbing Sumia by the shoulders and shaking her fiercely. "In fact, why would you sleep with Robin!? What is wrong with that possibly damaged brain of yours!?"

"Hey, you leave Mother alone!" Morgan called out, pushing the two apart. "She simply realized Father's incredible talent and skill, and fell head over heels for him. Who wouldn't love the greatest tactician that Ylisse, nay _the world_ , has ever seen?"

"People that know him!" Chrom shot back. There was no way any of this was true. He was dreaming, it had to be it. He was dreaming, and it was turning into a nightmare!

"Now, Chrom, stop it," Sumia said, surprisingly forceful. "Yes, Robin has a few habits that aren't exactly role-model material, but he's not a complete monster like you insist that he is."

Chrom's head turned to Sumia slowly, as though it was mimicking the Earth's rotation. The look on his face could only be described as a soldier being told that battle was nothing, and that he was a coward.

"He walked right up to Emmeryn and said that, and I quote, 'you look like a high-price whore'," Chrom said, his tone cold and monotonous. "Add that to the time that he took all of those hallucinogenics and ran around the capital naked."

"As I said," Sumia defended, "he has bad habits. But the fact that he is willing to stay with us has to mean _something_."

"It's because I give him money!" Chrom blurted out, tired of the argument. Why was she so defensive of Robin? She's turned his advances down more than once already. "Please tell me you didn't already..."

Sumia's face turned bright red.

It only got redder when a familiar, drunken midget stumbled his way through camp, and towards them. He wore a purple sleeping robe that was open and flowing in the wind. The only problem was that he wore nothing underneath. Nothing was left to the imagination, including his scars, and the _important bits_.

"Ch-*hic*Chrom!" Robin called out, putting an expensive wine bottle against his lips and chugging it down during the pause. "Wh-What'sshh wifhh all 'he screamen'? Can' get any fuckin' sleep 'round here..." His face was bright red, nose dripping snot. His eyes drifted to the now horribly embarrassed Sumia, and the girls who wore the same expression. "Why's there two of her...?" Robin asked, pointing at Sumia while looking at Cynthia. "An' two of... me?" Robin pointed a finger at his chest while looking at Morgan.

"Ahem," Sumia began, trying to keep the conversation under control. But despite trying not to, she could not keep her eyes off of the exposed genitals now enjoying the sunlight. "R-Robin, there are some people who would like to talk to you."

Robin was quiet for a time, merely stumbling where he stood.

"This an intervention?" he asked, clutching the wine bottle to his chest. He looked like a child whose toy was about to be taken away.

"No," Sumia said sweetly. She got between Cynthia and Morgan, lightly pushing them towards him. "These two would like to tell you something."

"Uh-h," Morgan moaned out. She didn't know what to say. Her father was nothing short of a _legend_. She needed to pick her words carefully. Something that would make him see her as an equal, and not just his child. Yes! She had them! "Fathe-"

"DADDY, PLEASE PUT ON SOME PANTS!" Cynthia screamed out, her face bright red. Her hands covered her eyes, trying not to look at the naked man in front of her.

"Oh~!" Robin droned out. "I see how it is! You all've got a pr'blem wifh how a man choosez to carry 'imself around."

"Robin, she is simply asking you to put on some clothes," Chrom said, trying to not to look himself. He already saw enough of Robin's genitals in prison, and he wasn't willing to pay them a visit.

"Well who do you fhink you are!?" Robin belched out, tasting wine and vomit on his breath.

"They're your daughters," Chrom got right to the point, now completely facing another way.

Robin dropped the bottle in shock. It shattered on the ground, spilling the rest of the wine across the dirt. His eye twitched slightly as the realization hit him.

"Dau-Daug-Daugh..." Robin repeated. No matter how hard he tried, his mouth couldn't finish the word. He was broken.

"Daddy!" Cynthia cheered, overfilled with glee, hugged Robin tightly. Morgan quickly followed.

" _Help me..._ " Robin thought, trying to transmit it to Chrom. The attempt was in vain as Chrom merely walked away, leaving the 'family' to sort out their business alone.

"So, Robin," Sumia said, the same gentle smile still on her face, "is there anything you would like to say to your children?"

Robin was silent for awhile, trying to think.

"Do you wanna get drunk?"

* * *

 _A/N_

ANOTHER CHAPTER!? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?

Add that to some other stuff I was doing, and you would think I was manic or something...

But now you see Robin interact with some other Shepherds, and it is more than you think, but less than you hope. And you may notice how Robin went with Sumia this time instead of the 97% of other stories that did Robin with Lucina. That's because Lucina seems like someone who would not put up with Robin's bullshit. Sumia you can see it as you can argue that her personality is super forgiving and wants to 'help' him. Thus leading to... Cynthia and Morgan, I guess?

Until next time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Two Years Prior:**

 _Steam clouded everyone's vision as they bathed. Sighs of relief could be heard as the mob of prisoners melted into the warm water. Even Chrom couldn't deny how relaxing it was to simply lay in the calm pool._

" _Please, you must tell me," Chrom began, looking at Robin, who was having trouble keeping his head above the water, "what makes this water so refreshing?"_

 _Robin perched himself on a rock, finally able to take a breath. His head drifted to the open air roof they had, able to see the steam float off into the night sky. His scarred, mangled body made Chrom feel slightly queasy, and question just how he was still alive. But he learned very quickly to be careful about what question to ask his sarcastic savior._

" _I dunno," Robin admitted, dunking his hair into the water, "somethin' about the prison having access to an underground source of water. It gets heated naturally, for some reason. Think they call it a 'hot-spring'."_

" _Well, however it is done, I certainly appreciate it," Chrom kept his eyes on the other prisoners, hoping to catch any would be assassin before they got a chance. The fog made it difficult, but not impossible._

" _Yeah, it's pretty good," Robin agreed, his own eyes drifting elsewhere. "The best part is that this prison is actually multi-sex."_

" _Wait-what?" Chrom went red in the face at that. How did he know that? Chrom couldn't even remember the last time he saw a woman!_

" _Yeah," Robin continued, an insidious little sneer on his boy-like face, "the other half of the prison is used for the female prisoners. They use a bunch of magic and enchantments to keep the genders apart, but they can broken pretty easy if you know what you're working with."_

" _Wh-Why are you bringing this up!?" Chrom was shouting his lungs out. His fists were clenched. Teeth grit._

" _Because if you follow me, I'll show you some Grade A tits!" Robin searched around them, noticing the other prisoners were off in their own little worlds. He gestured for Chrom to follow him, and swam through the spring._

 _Chrom shrugged his shoulders and swam with, chiding himself for his perversion. He could only pray that the other Shepherds wouldn't think less of him, but, damn it, it had been an entire year! It wasn't his fault!  
_

" _Now, I know that Pretty Boy ain't gunna just up and leave my pond," Chrom heard a voice that sent chills down his spine. He turned to see a massive, fat, bulbous man say. His skin was a dark brown, with a thin beard on his face. His head was completely bald, shining with sweat and spring water._

" _Uh, hello?" Chrom asked the massive prisoner. The hums of the fat man disturbed Chrom in a whole other way than the grisly beatings that he witnessed almost daily. Especially when his eyes drifted down... "I-Is there something I can help you with?"_

" _Pretty Boy," the whale said, as if tasting the words. "I hear you got yourself a little protector."_

" _If by 'protector' you mean my friend Robin, then yes," Chrom said, confrontational in his tone. He narrowed his eyes, staring into the cow's._

" _Robin..." the fatty said before laughing heartily. Chrom could hear other prisoners laughing nervously with him. "I remember him..."_

" _Yo-You know Robin?" Chrom asked, slightly backing away. He needed to keep his distance. If a fought broke out, it would be best to keep himself out of grabbing range._

" _I remember how cute he was~!" the obese man sang out. The other prisoners laughed once again. What was wrong with that guy?_

" _Uh, right," Chrom said, ready to run in a moment's notice._

" _But guess what," the fat man said, before sitting down into the water. He tossed Chrom a sponge and bar of soap._

" _I wanna bath, mothafucka."_

 _Chrom's face went dark as the request hit him. He needed to run very **very** far away..._

" _Hey, Big Love!" Chrom heard Robin shout from behind him. The tiny psychopath was standing in the water, only getting half of his chest above the surface. "Back off!"_

" _Oooooh~!" the land-porpoise known as 'Big Love' cooed out as he saw Robin. "If it isn't 'Kitty'..."_

 _The name made Robin go red in anger, nearly sending a thunderbolt to the man's fat gut. Of course, with all of the water around them, that would have ended badly. Memories of cat ears and tail flooded Robin's head, and made him **incredibly** angry.  
_

" _What the...?" Chrom asked, watching the exchange in confusion._

 _Robin swam next to Chrom, reaching him in mere seconds. His teeth nearly snapped in his mouth, his jaw clenched so tightly. Robin raised a hand high into the air._

" _I said!" Robin shouted before sending the hand under the water. Chrom's face went completely white. "He's with me!"_

" _Hmph," Big Love pouted before rising to his full height, towering far above Chrom and Robin. The monster of a man turned his back to the two and disappeared into the fog, never to be seen again. "See you later, Pretty Boy..."  
_

 _The two could only bask in awkward silence, neither knowing the words to say. It was quite the traumatic experience... in more ways than one..._

" _Robin..." Chrom groaned out._

" _Yeah?" Robin responded, still keeping his eyes to the fog._

" _Did you have to shove a finger up my ass?"_

" _No... But it happened."_

* * *

 _A/N_

I have updated this... Yay for me...

But I plan on working on Only the Young next, so if you like both of these, it's gonna be a fun weekend of telling me I'm ruining the stories. :3

But if anyone caught the two references I put in here, good for you.


	5. Chapter 5

The bar was rowdy, putting it lightly. Smoke filled the air, choking the lungs of anyone not already adjusted to the seedy atmosphere. Loud cheers and hollers from the excited drunks filled the air. The cheap wooden chairs and tables were rough, giving splinters to the eyes by just looking at them. Ale tasted like dishwater and food worse than that. Blood splattered the floor as the sharp end of a broken bottle drove into the neck of an unfortunate soul.

It was the 'famous' tavern _Naga's Ass_. One of the pits of filth that held all of the degenerates and low-lifes that Ylisse liked to pretend didn't exist. Whores sold themselves to any passerby; men killed each other like it was going out of style; and more than a few enemies of the state planned crimes on a massive scale within the tavern's rotten walls. The tired barkeep scanned the crowd, watching for any outsiders that would have loved to tip the nobles off about the place. Then one of those 'for the children!' crusades would swing by and purge his business of clientele. Happened a few times every couple years or so.

"Now _this_ is my kinda place!" Robin announced, leading his daughters into the deranged establishment. He swaggered in with confidence, a smirk heavy on his lips. Cynthia and Morgan, however, were less than excited to enter. They tentatively followed their father. Polite utterings of 'sorry' and 'excuse me' were all that they could say.

Everything went dead silent at the commotion. All patrons of the bar turned their eyes to the trio. An impressive crowd, to say the least. The barbarians stopped bashing victims' heads against tables. Prostitutes ceased their services, the sight making Morgan and Cynthia blush a bright red. Bar brawlers quit their fighting, except for one poor soul who was thrown out of the window on the right of the trio.

"Daddy..." Cynthia whispered to Robin, her eyes wide and locked onto the disapproving crowd. "Do you really think we should be in here...?"

"We've been moving non-stop since we left Plegia," Robin argued, waving a hand. "I say we earned a break. Now let's get fucked up!"

"Morgan, this can't possibly be a good place to-!" Cynthia snapped to her sister, noticing she was long gone. "M-Morgan!?"

Cynthia turned her head to the bar, where her sister and her father were doing shots together. The taller woman stood out like a sore thumb amongst the criminals. She could offer nothing but a hesitant laugh as she awkwardly crept her way to her family members.

"What do you guys think you're doing!?" Cynthia hissed, feeling the judgmental stares bore into her back.

A line of shot glasses were in front of them, all filled to the brim with a light, brown liquid. The stench burned Cynthia's nostrils, making her reel back from the bar. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.

"Cyn-*hic*-Cynthia!" Robin hiccuped, turning to his daughter, shot glass in hand. "Come drink with us." Robin stretched his arm out, offering the booze to his kid. Who responded by smacking it out of his hand, shattering the glass on the floor.

"I don't want to drink!" Cynthia said, grabbing hold of the duo's robes and pulling them out of their stools back to the exit. "I want to get out of here before we get horribly murdered, robbed, raped, or any other sort of horrible thing these people do to each other!"

"Ah, don't be so judgmental, sis," Morgan blubbered out. Her face was a bright red, a strong buzz in her system. "If Father likes them, they can't all be bad."

Struggling echoed from the upstairs bedroom, a woman screaming and things crashing to the floor. Glass shattered, wood splintered, and the unseen victim shrieked. A sword stabbed through the ceiling, dark red blood splattering onto Cynthia's armor, who turned as white as a ghost. The sword retracted, stabbing through the floor once again, then again, and again. More stabs brought more blood to Cynthia's armor. The screams stopped as soon as they started, leaving the tavern in an awkward silence.

"Oh geez..." an unseen man said, voice seeping through the floor. His tone was disturbingly casual, sounding as though he was more worried about a broken lamp than a dead woman. "Hey, Bill!"

"Yeah?" the barkeep called up, staring at the dribbling blood. That man's voice was just as calm, petrifying Cynthia.

"It happened again..."

"It's all good," 'Bill' said, rubbing his eyes with his hands. "I'll get a guy up there tomorrow."

"Thanks," the murderer said, his footsteps creaking the aged wood as he walked.

"Do you see what I mean!?" Cynthia shrieked, gaining her more stares and annoyed grunts by the regulars. "How is this not sinking into you two!?"

"So what?" Robin asked, slipping out of Cynthia's grasp. Morgan was still trapped in her sister's grip, the liquor going straight to her head. "This kinda thing happens all the time. People just don't, you know, talk about this loud."

"Murdering each other in dirty old taverns is a normal thing!?" Cynthia panicked, eyes darting all around her.

"Oh, get off the high horse!" Robin spat, grabbing Cynthia's arm with one hand and Morgan's shoulder with the other, pulling the two apart. "All three of us have killed tons of people by this point."

"Yeah," Cynthia admitted, biting her nails as the mob expressed their displeasure with the scene. Mainly by grabbing very sharp looking pieces of wood, clubs, and other things that would suck to be hit with and eying the trio down. "But those were bad guys! Guys that tried to kill us first."

"Still," Robin said, shrugging his shoulders. "You killed those guys. Principle's the same."

"Look," Cynthia said, grabbing hold of Robin and Morgan, her sister fast asleep on the ground, and pulling them to the exit. "Let's debate the ethical issues of war when we aren't about to have our brains ripped out through our eye sockets!"

Robin groaned, a heavy sigh that rattled the bones of all those that heard it.

"Fine..." Robin caved, slumping his shoulders. "But next time, I'm coming back without you guys... Damned buzz-kills, that's what you are..."

"I'm not shedding tears over that," Cynthia said, pushing the heavy wooden door to the outside open, ushering her father out as she carried Morgan in her arms. The light snores from her sister were adorable, but she no time to enjoy them as the degenerates intimidated the young knight with their horrid stares.

And more than a few thrown bottles...

"No outsiders allowed!" the barkeep shouted, announcing the attack. He knew something was off about them from the beginning. Everyone looked to him, waiting for the signal. The fat, aging man raised up his fist, sliding out his thumb from the mass of fat he called a hand. Said thumb snapped downwards, giving the all clear.

Cynthia yelped at the barrage of liquor bottles flying towards her. She ran through the door as fast as she could, barely scraping out of there without one bashing against her head.

Robin fumed as they stood out in the cold. He growled as he pace back and forth, punching the air any chance he could.

"Th-That guy!" he said, voice filled with venom. "He's getting to me..."

They stood in the cold street, snow falling all around them. The revelry of the crowd came back in full force. Cheers echoed in the night, rattling the deserted buildings around them. Cynthia turned back to her father, who slid a bottle of wine from his coat, popping the cork.

"What do you think you're doing?" Cynthia asked, rubbing her eyes. Mental exhaustion crushed her being. The experience was traumatizing, adrenaline still flowing in her system. Her heart didn't know whether it wanted to slow down or speed up, pounding against her rib cage.

Robin looked to her, bottle hovering close to his lips.

"Well," he started, "I was gonna finish this bottle."

"Oh..." Cynthia said, practically sighing her words out. She just wanted to crawl back into her tent and sleep the rest of the night away. Her goal was so close.

"Then I was gonna go back in there and break it over that bartender's melon _fucking head_!" Robin screamed, running back to the bar in a speed Cynthia never thought possible.

"Wait-what!?" Cynthia screamed, hearing glass explode from the inside of the bar and hearing Robin laugh like a maniac.

"Oh Gods damn it!" she shrieked, dropping Morgan in the snow as she ran back in to control her father.

Morgan, unaware of anything around her, slept like a baby while the sounds of mayhem and carnage exploded around her. The fireballs, bar burning to cinders, Cynthia having to fight off drunken lunatics as she tried to find her father.

All her sister could think about was one thing.

" _WHY COULDN'T HAVE CHROM BEEN MY DAD!?"_

* * *

 _A/N_

So I finally updated this. Have no clue whether I think this is good or not. Need to stare at the wall for a while before I decide.

I'll get back to you on that when I find it out.

Until Next Time!


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